At First Sight
by LOTR-nutcase
Summary: A One-Shot about how Lothiriel and Eomer might have met.


**Author's Note:** This is a one-shot I wrote last night at 11:30 because I couldn't sleep. I know it's been forever since I posted any updates to my stories, and I can't promise I'll ever finish them, because my life is pretty hectic right now what with it being Senior Year and all. But trust me…this summer….yeah. :) Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy!

* * *

Once the newly-wedded couple had been ushered, with much raucous and bawdy ceremony, off to their chamber, their post-marriage celebration became noticeably wilder. More wine and ale were brought to fuel the rowdy atmosphere. As the evening wore on, several of the guests crossed the line between 'tipsy' and 'drunk.'

An exception stood against the Northern wall, next to a massive stone fireplace in which a great deal of wood was snapping and crackling. She hadn't been there long, only since a few minutes earlier when her brothers had stepped outside to pursue a pair of vixen-eyed serving girls. She had been allowed to remain inside alone on the condition that she would not stray from her spot by the fireplace.

But as the length of their absence increased, so did the young woman's boredom. She watched the crowd, aching to experience the thrum of _life_ that emanated from it. So when she noticed a group of girls beginning a dance at the other end of the Hall, she pushed security to the back of her mind and set off to join them.

The throng became denser and denser as she approached the dancers. She found herself squeezing between people, trying her best not to touch anyone.

And failing.

"'ere now, what's this? A man about the age of her oldest brother said when she brushed his arm in passing. "A pretty little skirt, she is, wouldn't you say, lads?"

She blushed awkwardly and edged away, turning back towards the dancers, but a calloused hand grabbed her wrist, arresting her movement.

"Now, miss, don't be leavin' so soon. The boys here want to get to know you." The man, who would have been handsome if he weren't so drunk, reeked of ale. His friends, two large fellows wearing, like the man accosting her, the standard issue white shirt (though stained with ale), brown leggings and long green tunic of the country, stepped on either side of her, effectively hemming her in. She swallowed, realizing that they were all soldiers, over six feet tall, and more than capable of physically overpowering her.

Where were overprotective brothers when you needed them?

"Kindly release me, sir."

The man leered at her. "Ooh, polite she is. Knew I liked you, girl!" He pulled her towards him. She was openly struggling, now. "Come, chit, give me just one kiss."

"Let…me…GO!"

The man's eyes narrowed and his grip became less annoying and more…mean. "You're forgettin' your manners, girl."

"No, she's not. I believe she asked you to take your drunken hands off her. Either do so instantly or I will remove them for you."

The lady heard the steely voice close behind her back and shivered. She wasn't sure whether the interloper was threatening to remove the drunk's hand from her body or his own arms, but as long as the disgusting man was no longer touching her, she didn't much care.

And he wasn't. As soon as the new arrival spoke, the drunk dropped her arm, stepped back, and bowed.

Bowed?

"Sire…I was just…just harmless fun, sire."

Sire?

"Harmless to you, mayhap, but embarrassing, frightening, and undesirable to the lady here, I dare say. It appears you have had more than your share of the ale, Heagrim, as have your friends, so I suggest you leave."

Heagrim looked like he wanted to argue, but took another look at whatever face was behind her and fled. He was closely followed by his cronies.

The girl turned around to see the man who had rescued her.

"I apologize for the behavior of those men, miss. Drunkenness is no excuse. They know better."

But the apology went unnoticed. The lady was too busy staring at him. She had though Heogrim's friends big, but this man dwarfed them, not so much by the inches he had on them as the commanding presence he bore. Dark blond hair, slightly wavy, was tied back from a handsome face complete with short beard and dark green eyes. Sea green.

Oh, dear. They had called him 'sire.'

She was lost.

* * *

The man in question was not unaffected, himself. He had meant only to defend a girl being troubled by a few worthless drunks, but now that he found himself face-to-face with her, he wondered why he had not noticed her sooner.

She was beautiful. Long, golden-brown hair fell in curls to her slim waist. There was a wreath of roses on her head, setting off dark blue eyes and slightly elfin features. She was a tall woman, with proud, erect posture (when not frightened by louts, that is). Really, he thought as he studied her full lips, where had she been hiding?

The answer came in the form of two men rushing towards them through the crowd. He smiled, for he knew and liked these two, foreigners though they were. Then the first man shouted something at the girl, and his jaw dropped.

* * *

"Lothiriel, were have you _been_?" Erchirion called.

Lothiriel knew she replied something, but she paid very little attention to her brothers. The King of Rohan in front of her was much more interesting. She had been ill in the week since her party's arrival in his country, and had never been properly introduced, although her maid had gossiped a great deal about him.

* * *

So _this_ was the Princess of Dol Amroth!

Eomer found himself grinning pointlessly at her. Her brothers had painted her as a loveable shrew, not the beauty that he saw before him. Not that he could blame them, give the stories they must have heard about him. He had a reputation with women. Nothing too bad, he hoped, but enough to raise the suspicions of any self-respecting older brother.

He should know.

* * *

Erchirion stopped abruptly when he saw Eomer smile at Lothiriel. Amrothos bumped into him from behind.

"What are you doing?" The younger man asked, attempting to go around his brother.

Erchirion held him back. "It's no good, Amrothos."

"What's no good?"

"Trying to keep them from each other."


End file.
